


AE INEC ALTADOON

by DunmerLover



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Blindfolds, Camoran talks in Ehlnofex, Creation lore, Debating while fucking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I'm really trying with this one, Lore-based, Lore-heavy, Mankar Camoran is Dragonborn, Pre-Canon, Quest-based, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Straight up inventing Ehlnofex words, The amount of research I've done for this fic is ridiculous, Unearthing Mehrunes' Razor, Violence, debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24953716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunmerLover/pseuds/DunmerLover
Summary: An Imperial scholar descends the depths of Sundercliff Watch, to discover for herself the truth about Mehrunes' Razor. What she finds down in those caverns is far more than she ever bargained for.Or, Mankar Camoran makes a martyr out of a civilian for his own cause.
Relationships: Mankar Camoran/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place about 2 years pre-Oblivion Crisis, and completes my "Imperial Three" fan fictions concerning, well, three Imperials who are all connected (all the characters in all my Elder Scrolls stories are connected together somehow) and I actually began this one over two years ago now. What's been holding back this project is the sheer volume and complexity of lore I've had to research to even _think_ about just what I wanted to write, and the magnitude of the task ahead of me in translating that into how Mankar Camoran talks.
> 
> Needless to say, it's easily the most ambitious writing project I've ever attempted before. That's why I'm choosing to upload what I already have to maybe gauge interest in the idea, and use the fact that it actually "exists" as something other than a document on my computer to motivate me to get it written. Even if it's one chapter longer than I intended.
> 
> So yeah, I'm writing this simply because Camoran's Paradise speech is just about the hottest thing, especially when he starts talking in Ehlnofex. I wanted to write something that elaborated on the idea of _Mankar Camoran saying words_.
> 
> And as always, please be aware of tags, there will be a graphic sex scene in this story and it's not at all consensual and it's not going to be nice. And as always, I don't in any way condone such acts in real life, but this is my fantasy. I like writing my fantasies and I'm sorry if my fantasy about Camoran is fairly gritty but that's why I give such lengthy disclaimers. Just be aware of tags.

Under the shade of the trees overhead, right at the edge of the forest, Arinna Burillius slid off her horse and her stiff leather travelling boots hit the damp ground with a quiet squelch. She stumbled a little on impact but steadied herself by placing a hand to her mare’s neck, as gentle as could be.

The Imperial whispered soft words into the horse’s ear as she stroked the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll try not to be too long, girl,” she said.

Ari let her eyes close for a short while as her forehead pressed lightly against the faithful mare’s temple. She was already tired, and certain her horse was exhausted too - the journey out from the Imperial City had been long… so much longer than she’d anticipated, but her excitement kept her awake. As she thought about what she would see today, what she would _learn_ … the adrenaline was enough to keep her going.

The Imperial’s pale, icy eyes opened and she stood up straight. With a final pat to the mare’s neck, the traveller turned and faced the water, scanning the immediate area for any sign of an entrance to Sundercliff Watch. She walked across the open ground, the swaying of the trees throwing dappled light all around that seemed to dance alongside her as she walked. Where the light broke through the leaves swarms of midges could be seen flying, thick in the crisp air, and Ari swatted them away as she walked through.

Ari hated insects. She wasn’t fond of mudcrabs, either - or anything that crawled - and she tolerated the mud and the wind, and the rain, for braving it all was a necessary evil for what she might find inside that fort. She was a scholar, after all, and she was here to learn. Already on the wrong side of thirty, she’d been on so few true field trips in her life she could probably count them all on two hands, however, she’d never been anywhere quite like _this_. As she walked along the water’s edge for a few minutes, that excitement, that itching, coursed through her again - she could only imagine what lay in wait inside.

Perhaps no weapon at all, she thought to herself as she looked back into the woods. It was when she looked through the trees she caught her first glimpse of the old ruin.

 _Found it_.

Ari made in that direction, back through the trees, still thinking. Yes… she didn’t _personally_ believe the old stories of Mehrunes Dagon’s cursed blade should be taken quite so literally.

She approached the crumbled stone walls, and with her dominant hand poised lightly on the hilt of her cheap dagger, she took a quick look around, only moving forward when she was certain she was the only one there. She spotted the old doors, rusted hinges and an ancient latch, and made for them. Of course, Ari understood completely why the stories about Mehrunes’ Razor had grown so elaborate - it _did_ make for a thrilling tale.

Still, she reasoned, she could be entirely wrong. That was why she’d come after all, after hearing the rumours - she’d come for the truth. But, Razor or no Razor, she was excited. She’d see first-hand the remnants of a time long since passed, and be it about Daedra, or the history of Tamriel, she positively thrived on learning something new.

With some difficulty, she pushed open the seized-up doors, throwing all her weight on until they gave way, slowly, with a monumental groan. When she had enough of a gap to force herself through, Ari did just that, clambering through and immediately she was swallowed up by the chill and the darkness inside. The rattling of wind through leaves and chirping of birds was replaced by an oppressive silence, only the occasional drip of water from a source the Imperial couldn’t see. It took her a while to adjust, eyes straining until large shapes and angles took form and she could make out their details.

“So this is Sundercliff Watch…” she mused aloud. The quiet voice bounced off the stone walls and back to her more than once.

The first thing that caught her attention were the torches off in the distance, lining the walls, their dim light betraying the path she would take. Almost all of them were lit. Someone else had been here, she thought to herself, not too long ago - or was still here. Chances were, she wasn’t alone in this old fort. So Ari progressed with caution, her every step quiet and careful, through the tunnels, and with each corridor her suspicions were confirmed - tables littered with modern lamps and fresh writing equipment told her Sundercliff Watch was somebody’s home now.

She made _herself_ at home quickly, stopping in an alcove and pulling her journal out from her satchel and kneeling down over a crate to document everything she’d so far seen. Ari’s eyebrows raised curiously when she noticed she wasn’t the first one to disturb the thick layer of dust that had settled on the wood through the ages.

Eager to see what the latest inhabitants of the fort had stored away, she lifted the crate open, and gagged violently when the smell hit her.

Still coughing on her own spit, she braced herself, stuffing long strands of chestnut hair behind her ears, and took a look inside. A generous supply of meat and cheese degraded happily, rotting away and awash with maggots - an indefinite number of tiny little pearls squirming in and out of the festering meat. The Imperial batted a couple of flies away from her face and quickly closed the crate, determined to find somewhere else to work on her field notes and try and forget the stench. It would seem the newest occupants of the fort had already left… and judging by how much they’d left behind… perhaps they’d left in a hurry.

Ari made her way further down until she reached a cavern, and settled herself down by a large pile of ash and charred wood that still smouldered a little. Bed rolls surrounded what would’ve once been a roaring fire, abandoned. She picked one at random and sat cross-legged while she wrote hastily, frantically, that pulse of adrenaline back and more powerful than ever. She knew she’d forget things - _important_ things, but that couldn’t be helped. Maybe the return trip back to the surface would jog her memory. Or maybe it would take more than a single day to explore, there might simply be far too much down here for her to document everything. Maybe she’d have to make that sacrifice.

Eventually Ari stood and continued on, stuffing the very last of a half-loaf of bread in her mouth as she did.

 _What did they come for?_ the Imperial thought to herself, grabbing a torch from the wall before the trail ended and she descended into complete darkness. _Who were they? Were they looking for the Razor too?_

So many questions she might never get an answer to when she was, truly, all alone down here.

Or so she thought. Ari stumbled as the tip of her boot caught something hard on the ground and nearly sent her face-first to the floor. She hit the cavern wall and turned to see what she’d tripped over, and her very blood turned to ice.

She’d never seen a dead body before today. Now she had the misfortune of seeing five. The bodies, unmoving, shrouded in darkness, littered the walkway as though carelessly cast aside to form a crude gangway. Tentatively, Ari sniffed the air, and wished she hadn’t. It was bad, even if the bodies probably weren’t as far gone as the meat she’d seen earlier. Legs weak, she knelt down to the one she’d tripped over and with trembling hands she heaved the still-stiff corpse onto its back - couldn’t have been dead at all long in the grand scheme of things.

 _Male. Dark elf._ She stood and with a steady sweep of her torch inspected the others. All men, all Dunmer.

_All in the same… is that a uniform?_

More confused than ever yet intrigued tenfold on that, Ari pressed on, trying her best to swallow down her lingering nausea. A freezing gust swept through the cavern as she walked but the cold didn’t bother Ari - she supposed she had her Nord grandfather to thank for that. She kept on until the walkway opened up, and nothing could’ve prepared her for what she saw.

Her mouth fell open as she approached the cliff face and looked down upon it. Someone - or a great many people - had built a settlement deep under the ground. It was a whole village - homes built in the excavated space and rope bridges connected storey to storey.

“...Amazing!” Ari whispered under her breath.

She could only stare. She had no idea this was down here, and it _certainly_ warranted a dedicated trip of its own to study. Her mind was full to bursting with only more questions - who built this? When? Why? The men from before... were they defending something?

Quickly she was snapped away from her reverie when she saw the movement down in the settlement below. The Imperial threw herself behind the nearest building and nearly tripped over another dark elf corpse in the process, in the quiet her pounding heart so loud she was sure it would give away her position, and stole another glance down below. Four men, uniformed, crossed from one building to another, deep in conversation so hushed Ari could only hear a whisper echo back to her, and only if she listened very hard. Their uniforms were different - not the deep green tunics the dead men wore - these men wore robes. Vibrant red robes, as rich as blood, hoods drawn, covering each of their faces in shadow as they talked.

Whatever was down here, there was far more of a fight over it than Ari _ever_ anticipated. How stupid could she be to think she’d be the only one making this trip? Of _course_ others would follow the rumours. She retreated behind the wooden wall, not able to pull out her journal fast enough, and again she wrote until her wrist hurt.

 _TWO factions_ , she thought to herself, her mind so full of questions it almost hurt to form even one. _Two factions, BOTH seeking the Razor! One… slain the other… and now they keep on with their search._

Ari immediately made the assumption that the ones in the red robes hadn’t yet succeeded - after all, if they _had_ , why would they stick around?

The sound of a loose rock falling from the cavern’s crumbling wall made the scholar freeze. Her eyes flicked to the ground as the small boulder rolled to her position, and the cavern rang silent again. But Ari remained frozen, backed up against the wooden wall. She wasn’t safe here - she couldn’t hold her own in a fight, after all, she was just one person, not trained to wield the small, cheap dagger at her belt. She’d brought that knife to defend herself, if need be… but it would be better, so much better, if that need never was. She had little magickal ability, either, barely enough to start her own campfire.

The chances were, these men, in the red robes, would be hostile if they were to spot her. If they’d killed the ones in the green tunics, that much was to be expected. Her best bet would be to make sure she wasn’t seen in the first place.

So, Ari continued on. She cast aside her torch and walked through the small, dark tunnels, not sure she was even moving in the right direction. Before long, she saw more of them, their deep red robes illuminated by the torches they carried as they walked together, and the Imperial shrunk into the darkness while they approached her position. She barely breathed as they passed.

“What passages have yet to be searched?” one of them asked. Male, with a Hammerfell drawl.

Within the shadows, the scholar stared.

 _Yes_ , she thought to herself. _They’re looking for the Razor!_

“The Forge has been cleared,” came another male voice - the sharp accent and haughty tone of an Altmer. “And the entrance to Varsa Baalim has been uncovered. Our search isn’t over yet.”

The two men moved away, out of earshot, as one of them talked about how their leader was growing restless, and Ari’s heart raced, the blood pounding in her temples.

 _Varsa Baalim_ , she thought to herself, adrenaline coursing through her body, spreading into the very tips of her fingers. Varsa Baalim! Oh, she’d always longed to explore the hidden city, forgotten to time. Even just to know the location… and now, she knew. She _had _to see it!__

__She had to get somewhere safe, this all needed to be documented. She made sure the immediate area was clear before emerging from the shadows, and as she scurried away, Ari felt that lingering pressure on the back of her neck, almost like she was being watched. She managed to shake it off as she knelt down behind a lone, wooden wagon, pulled out her journal and inkwell again, and wrote faster than she ever had in her life. The words were nearly illegible but she’d decipher them when she returned to the Imperial City. For now it needed to be written, all of it, before she forgot a single thing._ _

__**CRACK.** _ _

__Pain. And then only blackness._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now I've finally written this I just want to say a couple things:
> 
> \- I don't know _who_ this is for. I don't know why I wrote this.
> 
> \- It got very dialogue-heavy (as was the intention, but now it's here I worry about that)
> 
> \- I worry it sounds pretentious as all holy hell, but, mostly that's sort of how Camoran talks, I think. I tried my best with him, I really did. I just hope I did him justice.
> 
> I pair this scene - any part of this scene, I had the song on repeat for much of this project - with _Beat the Devil's Tattoo_ by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Nothing quite makes me think of sexual suffering like that song and if there was a theme to this story it would be just that.
> 
> Oh yeah and there is literally no visual input for this whole chapter.

Ari woke to complete and utter darkness. She cried out in shock, fearing blindness before noting the soft fabric over her fluttering eyelids, and at her temples and the bridge of her nose. It was a blindfold. The Imperial tried to reach up and take it off, and that was when she first realised her hands were bound too. Something at both wrists, keeping her splayed, and at her ankles too - not a rope - not painful, but soft fabric.

Soft bonds, but tight. Far too tight to slip out and get away, she decided, as she fought uselessly against them. If anything, they seemed to grow only tighter as she struggled.

Unable to see, and unable to move, she noted that she was lying on her back. Soft furs underneath, tickling at her exposed skin - was she _naked?_ Had her captors _stripped_ her? The chill that travelled through the air washed over her bare skin, and it well and truly confirmed this.

Panic set in. Her very blood seemed to turn to ice, that numb chill filling her very fingertips.

This was how she would die.

Ari began to hyperventilate, the cold, dank air filling her lungs only to be pushed straight back out again. She didn’t exactly fear death but she feared a painful death, and a slow one, and being bound and forced to _wait_ for that end with nowhere to escape to, nowhere to go… was a fear she never even knew she had until now.

Just how long she lay there in the quiet - utterly alone, utterly bound atop those furs - she couldn’t possibly tell, not as that same dread coursed heavy through her bloodstream. Each moment could’ve been mere seconds, and yet could’ve just as easily been long hours.

Eventually, she found the inner strength to calm down. Breathing steady. Her eyes squeezed shut against the tear-stained cloth as she let coherent thoughts return to her mind. It was time to take stock of the situation. The longer she awaited her captors’ return, the more Ari seemed able to tune into the sounds of the room now she herself had grown quiet- was she still in the cavern? Somewhere in the distance was the faint yet constant hiss of a stream, and closer still, the rhythmic drip as tiny beads of water splashed onto the ground from somewhere up above. Ari herself was dry, it was nowhere near her position.

 _One faction… slain the other… and they keep on searching_ , she thought to herself, focusing on the steady _drip_ , _drip_ , somewhere in the room, as though it spurred on her own thoughts.

_And I’m not dead. Yet. Surely… they must want something from me._

And yet she was bound, and waiting for the end. The dreadful thought occurred to her that the captors might not want to negotiate, yet… they hadn’t seen fit to gag her. Perhaps she _was_ awaiting negotiation.

Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe Ari could still bargain her way out of a death that may or may not be merciful. If she could just find out who, or what, she was dealing with.

Could she _help_ them?

Perhaps they could make use of a scholar… if only they were aware of that…

It was with a strange patience that Ari now awaited whatever was to come next. The anticipation welled up in her chest with each moment that passed, yet there was nothing she could do until her captors made their next move. She had no Magickal talent, there was no way out on her own.

She wasn’t kept waiting much longer. Across the room came the sound of a heavy bolt sliding through its lock - the noise bouncing back and forth on the walls over and over, it was impossible to tell how far away it was - and then the unmistakeable creak as a door swung slowly on its hinges.

“...Hello?” Ari called out, unable to stop her voice wavering.

No answer. The door shut with an audible clatter, and then came the footsteps - careful, deliberate, _slow_ footsteps. They stalked closer, each one coming a little louder than the last. They were not the unrelenting footfalls of a soldier in heavy boots, in comparison each was a light tap on compact ground.

Only when they came so close their owner must be right next to the girl, did she speak again. “Are you going- …to kill me?”

No answer. Ari couldn’t quite take it any more.

“Please don’t kill me. Please listen. I might be of use. To your quest.”

Whoever was standing there, again began to move.

“Such folly.”

That was all he said.

The speaker was a he, as it turned out. The words, oozing an arrogance that was almost charming to behold… were delivered with an accent Ari couldn’t place.

 _Folly?_ What did he mean by _that?_

“I’m not of use?” Ari questioned, a little more confidently now. “Or you won’t listen to me? Which is it?”

After a beat, she added, “There must be a reason you didn’t bind my mouth. You want me to speak… don’t you?”

“Truly, you are of no _higher value_ to our cause,” the voice moved around Ari as its owner circled whatever surface she was bound upon. “But this does not mean I wish you silenced. Your words matter little yet still their delivery cannot be understated.”

The Imperial - confused already - felt the otherwise-still air move against her cheek, heard the scrape of shoe on hard mud as her interrogator shifted his weight.

“Your possessions are forfeit to us.” The man sounded much closer now, Ari could almost feel the rumble of his words as he purred each one so close to her ear. He must’ve knelt to her level to speak.

“Your writings have been assimilated,” he continued. “Your violation of the proving grounds runs parallel to our own… yet know is it only we who return home. _You_ … are unwelcome.”

“My journals?” Ari replied. “You… my what?”

The girl cried out in shock as something touched her face - and stifled herself when she realised what it was - the softness of a fine silk, and the malleable stiffness of the fingers beneath it. She tensed and cringed a little as her captor picked stray locks of hair from her face. She felt the gloved fingers brush some into the body of her hair. Some, he opted to tuck neatly behind her ear.

She was being _dressed_ for her slaughter.

Eventually, he saw fit to continue. “You, as did each pilgrim before you… seek the Razor.”

“What is it to you?” Ari, unable to move, damn near spat out the words. “You already said I can’t help you. What do _you_ care why I’m here?”

“Whom do I address? A deluded thief, proclaiming the power of Lord Dagon should be manipulated to _her **particular**_ cause? Perhaps a petty adventurer, heart weighted with hopes and dreams, traversing the proving ground for glory and dominion?”

“ _Who do **I** address?_”

She spoke it with such frustration, she actually provoked something of a reasonable response from the man. “Answer me… and I shall enlighten _you_. Why have you come?”

His sudden co-operation took the girl by surprise. So much so, it made her actually stop and think about what exactly she would say. A coherent response deserved a polite answer, after all.

The fingers had since removed themselves from her temples, and their owner had shifted again. His gentle footsteps resumed their previous stalking. Ari couldn’t help but notice how much faster, how much harder her heart hammered in her chest - he would kill her soon, he surely wouldn’t wait much longer.

“I’m a scholar,” she eventually answered. “I came for knowledge. I wanted to see for myself… whether all the stories… the legends… really came together like that. To make something real.”

When he didn’t respond, she continued. “To make something… someone could wield. That’s why I came. Now you tell me what I asked.”

She didn’t expect the man to hold up his end of the bargain - at least not in a straightforward manner. She was right about _that_ part. “Look inside yourself, scholar, and find you already know.”

“I think you’ll find that doesn’t tell me anything.”

When he next spoke, he was leaning right over the girl - the softness of a flowing fabric brushed against her neck as he braced himself on the furs, the hem of a sleeve, maybe. She could _feel_ his presence looming over her. “Consider again the puzzle-pieces of your legend. Scholar… fit them now in your mind’s eye. Where do you place the architect of Dawn’s Beauty amongst them?”

It was like he actually believed she knew, deep down. Like she just needed help getting the answer out of her own mind. _Did she know?_ Nine… there really was a power behind every word he spoke - an influence to his strange charm that was almost dangerous. She _believed_ that she knew the answer, she _believed_ that buried somewhere in there, she actually knew who he was. So much so she took the time to think about it - rifling through the libraries of information in her mind - all the while the man didn’t move. His every breath tickled at her nose, the only warmth in the otherwise-freezing cavern.

“No…”

When she hit upon the answer she couldn’t quite believe it.

Despite the imminent danger pricking at her every nerve, it was impossible to keep the incredulity out of her voice. “ _No_ … Dawn’s- … _Lord Dagon?_ There’s _no way_ I’m speaking to _Mankar Camoran!_ ”

She couldn’t restrain her laughter, the bark came a little choked from her dry, wavering throat and the noise that echoed back to her was hideous. Her bare breasts brushed against the softness of the man’s robe - he was _still there_ \- nipples peaked and sensitive in the chilled air almost hurt against the brief silk. “It’s no wonder you have me blindfolded! No way would I be permitted to look upon the _Mankar of Stars_ , yes?”

“You are so familiar with my Commentaries?”

It was really him.

“If you mean I’ve read them, yes. There’s nothing to be familiar _with_ , Camoran.”

The most muted snarl was lost in Camoran’s throat, only audible at all because of how very close he was. “What did they reveal to you?”

“They showed me you’re a few stones short of a wall.”

Camoran eased off her, and suddenly Ari’s head exploded with pain as that soft silk and malleable stiffness violently struck her face. She cried out. It was more the shock that made her do so - she hadn’t expected him to hit her.

The impact echoed off the cavern walls, and after that a ringing silence took over. Ari’s eyes watered behind the blindfold. She took a few ragged breaths. “Just get it over with. Whatever you’re planning on doing, just get it done.”

“Such appetent sacrifice,” the sorceror whispered, the words all too clear in the silent space. “Makes for Him a more bountiful feast.”

As Ari’s every muscle braced for the end, nothing could’ve prepared her for what came next. On the bare skin of her hips, silken fabric flowed like fresh water. Camoran’s weight shifted yet again until he came to a stop, straddling her splayed form without a care for how surprisingly heavy he was atop her. The Imperial hadn’t expected it - hadn’t expected him to have to kneel on top of her to deal the killing blow.

Again, Camoran leaned over, bracing his weight tangibly beside her neck.

“Scholar, tell me,” he continued. “Whom do you worship?”

“What is it to you?” Still steeling herself for what was to come and trying her best to still her hammering heart, Ari half expected the madman might hit her again. “Are you gonna try and convert me to your cause?”

“I shall not waste time on those such as you… who so stubbornly turn towards _artificial_ lights.”

The girl never noticed just when the passive flow of silken fabric trailing over her breasts became instead a deliberate touch, and only realised it _was_ when those hands - much more gentle on her tits than they had been on her cheek - began to squeeze softly. When she realised that was happening, Ari’s very blood seemed to turn to ice. Fingers, warm and deft, rolled her nipples - already hard as stone, already reacted to the cold air - to the point of near agony.

As the realisation struck her, she was rendered speechless.

This wasn’t happening.

 _This_ was her sacrifice?

“So those are your followers?” The Imperial kept on talking, anything to distract herself from what was now happening - almost like she could pretend it wasn’t if she simply refused to address it. “Out there? In red? Do they think they’re going to _paradise?_ ”

The way he touched her, it was almost clinical. _Dutiful_. One hand came away, tickling Ari’s skin a little as fingertips ghosted softly down her stomach, over her mound - she wanted nothing more than to recoil at their gentle pressure on her clit, wanted nothing more than to press her thighs together as Camoran massaged her bud, and keep him out yet she was tied wide open. She could only brace herself as those soft fingers descended further, and slipped inside of her - first one, simply exploring, learning just how deep he could venture - then another, searching purposefully for something way up inside. The girl already knew what he was looking for.

“Gaiar Alata.”

Quickly he found it - slender fingers crooked up expertly into that special patch, so deep inside she could feel warm knuckles pressing into her body from the outside - working up into her in a way she’d never thought possible. Ari stifled a gasp, ragged as her bare chest heaved, and- Nine, she’d forgotten he was still rolling her nipple like that…

His third finger slipped in with ease. The girl was wet - she could feel it, she could feel the warm fluids trail down to her ass as Camoran violated her body. Ari felt no shame in being wet, it was a natural part of being raped. She knew that. The body’s natural reaction to the prolonged stimulus. In a way, she was glad - if this was really going to happen, it might hurt less that way.

Only then did Ari realise the deep grimace etched into her features. She couldn’t see it, couldn’t see _his_ reaction to it, but she could feel the way her lip curled, and the frown hidden away beneath the blindfold was starting to hurt. She cursed herself for that - for _reacting_. That was her sacrifice - the old elf wanted her to _suffer_ , and not necessarily through _physical_ turmoil. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

She forced the grimace off her face. “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked derisively, the fact he’d already _somehow_ answered her slipping her mind completely. She forced herself to sound _far_ more confident than she felt as the sorceror continued to violate her, yet she was unable to hide that wavering, there in her every word. “I thought we were talking. Do those men out there really believe you’ll take them to paradise?”

Camoran ceased whatever magick he was working inside of the girl, and those fingers gently scissored her open. A fresh wave of dread flowed freely through Ari’s veins - he really was preparing her for something worse. This was _far_ from over.

When Camoran uttered the words, he was so close the whisper washed over the girl’s nose. “They have already _seen_ Paradise.”

If Ari didn’t know better she’d have thought it a kindness when his fingers left her body, left her gaping and _mercifully_ empty. Needless to say, she _definitely_ knew better.

“You have failed to answer _my_ question,” the sorceror whispered, straightening up. The liquid softness of his robe suddenly cascaded over the girl’s lower body. “Whom do you worship?”

_Is this a trick?_

“I… worship the Nine. Like most Imperials do.”

“That you worship the Nine is a given,” Camoran replied simply. “I wish to know whose name _in particular_ passes your lips during your midnight prayers… which traitor-god hears you cry his name in your most desperate hour.”

“Ju- …Julianos.”

As she spoke the name, the inevitable was finally brought upon her. Something very hard pressed up against her gaping cunt, but the mere threat of an intrusion right now. Whatever it was, it was much thicker than Camoran’s fingers, and it was warm and smooth against her wet lips. She already knew what it was. He pressed it in further, she felt it throbbing every now and then, but it didn’t enter. The madman’s next words echoed around the cavern.

“Call his name.”

He forced his way to the hilt in a single, brutal stroke, the sheer force of which tore the Imperial wide open. She screamed at the ceiling, so loud and so long, her voice soon cracked and broke.

“CALL HIS **NAME** , SCHOLAR!” Camoran roared amid the wail that still overwhelmed the room. As he did, he punished the girl with another vicious rut - pulling out almost all the way only to drive back in with a devastating force.

It was all Ari could do to not burst into hysterical sobs as she howled again - she couldn’t even begin to comprehend the agony she was in. She barely even _heard_ the madman’s command. Only that instinctive part of her which fought to survive at all costs was truly functioning right now, and only because of that instinct did she listen. Everything else had already succumbed to white hot pain. Everything else was gone.

“ _ **JULIANOS!**_ ”

As if a reward for her compliance, Camoran settled on a more manageable pace, rocking slowly in and out, _deliberately_ drawing out each clinical, passionless stroke. Amid the pain, peaking with each move the elf made, Ari was aware of his hips moving against her own. Somehow this was her reality. How had it ended up like this?

“Tell me… how sweet is an Aedroth’s name on one’s tongue?” Camoran practically cooed the words into her ear and the only thing the girl could do to resist, as she put everything she had into _ignoring_ the way his dick throbbed within her depths, tangible despite the persistent pain, was to turn her head away. It did little to help.

“Does it warm your soul when all else freezes into deathful waste? Feel Us move within you… and call to your _mighty god_. Do you think he sees you now? Does he watch over your plight?”

“Fuck yourself, Camoran…”

She couldn’t bring herself to answer any more of the madman’s stupid questions. She could do nothing now but spit meaningless venom, her every word still hoarse and barely audible.

However, it would seem he chose to ignore it. “How will your Aedric Lords save you now? Look inside yourself, scholar… your gods will not come to your aid. You lie helpless beneath Us. Your coward gods allow beggars to wander the remains of this decadent land, cold and meaningless as Old Tamriel… Doomed families feast upon futility - the Aedra, _they_ devour apathy.”

It didn’t hurt any more, and now Ari supposed she might be able to get through it - as long as it didn’t get any worse than this. _It’s just sex_ , she thought to herself, over and over, trying her best to detach her feelings with a sense of logic as Camoran fucked her faster, harder, somehow still remaining entirely composed - like he wasn’t even there for it. Like he didn’t even feel it.

_It’s just penetrative sex, no different physically than any of those nights with Ruminus… I can get through this._

“Would Mehrunes Dagon save me?”

Camoran’s pace didn’t change. “Would you accept… if He offered salvation?”

“I’d rather die.”

Ari swore she heard him chuckle, so quiet it was almost inaudible over the very visceral background noise of his body moving inside her own. She felt the force of that one breath against her neck, different to all those before it and since.

“This shall not be so _easy_ for you, scholar.”

 _It’s just sex…_ The Imperial repeated it again in her own mind as she felt that familiar pressure well up within her, more and more aware of it with each of Camoran’s fierce thrusts. _It’s just the natural reaction to the stimulus. People come when they’re raped, it happens all the time…_

She _had_ to keep talking. That was the only thing she had, the only thing to distract her from the climax that even now, built up threateningly inside her. Maybe if she was distracted… it might not happen at all.

“What are _you_ here for?” she asked, struggling to get the words out - her chest trapped beneath Camoran’s heavy body. “You came for the rumours too, right?”

A few more vicious strokes passed before she added, “…You believe Mehrune’s Razor is a real thing?”

“I know it to be.”

“How can you say that so certainly when that mythical blade is… it’s most likely a metaphor for Mehrunes Dagon himself! All the evidence points that way! Didn’t you _yourself_ call him _Mehrune the Razor?_ ALTADOON NE-MUNDUS… ALTADOON AE DAGON!”

“No…” the madman’s response was little more than a simple breath against her ear, but so close she heard it perfectly. “My certainty stems from my own contemplation of its weight… the Razor has blessed me, and saved me from my own mortal ignorance.”

The visceral sounds were unbearable now, and it was all Ari could do to fight off the inevitable. Within her bonds she was all too aware of how her legs trembled. Each breath came ragged as she tried in vain to stop her hips bucking at Camoran’s every steady movement inside of her.

“...You owned it?”

“Yes… for a time I was permitted the Tongue of Dagon. For a time I held it with conviction and offered it my flesh… and it fed to me its bitter truths. And I wept… but do not give me pity. It was a joyous weeping, and I wept for that which once was… and that which was to be. ALTADOON NE-DAGON… AE INEC ALTADOON!”

_It’s just sex…_

“Did that actually happen?” Ari gasped, feeling her nerves balance on the razor’s very edge… about to fall. Her whole body welled with the anticipatory ecstasy. “…Or was it just another dream of a madman… like… _everything else_ \--”

She couldn’t fight it any longer. Every nerve in her body was alight, that physiological bliss, that white hot liquid gold, it flooded her every vein, and Ari howled a wanton howl, uncontrollable, into whatever was at her mouth- the man’s neck, maybe his robe, she had no way of knowing, but whatever it was it stifled the cries as her orgasm wracked her in merciless waves. She shuddered uncontrollably within those restraints as it tore through her, feeling them pull at her wrists and feeling her own walls flutter and squeeze against Camoran’s dick as he struck that spot inside her over and over, drawing it out… If it was under any other circumstances… _any_ other man… it would’ve been perfect, but this was a nightmare.It was a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

It seemed to Ari like she was locked in time as Camoran forced her to climax, it felt to her like a literal age before her very erotic cries petered out into little more than small, exhausted moans against whatever was against her mouth. It seemed like an age passed before the girth inside her, moving against her walls, wasn’t the purest, sweetest agony, and instead came to be quite literally unbearable.

The girl’s mind, flooded and numbed with its own internal narcotics that came hand in hand with orgasm, gradually became able to form coherent thoughts again.

_Overstimulation._

As Camoran’s own movements within her halted, Ari breathed a shaky, ragged sigh of relief. It was over. The cloth at her eyes was able to hide the tears - now it was wet and filthy against her skin as she saturated it - but nothing could hide the sporadic sobs, the infrequent hitching of her breath.

_It’s over._

The weight at her chest, and at her neck and mouth, it all came away as Camoran shifted his weight. He didn’t pull out, he remained hilted, throbbing every few seconds and still very, very hard inside of her. He stayed right where he was.

“My God is within me.” As if to bolster his words, his manhood pulsed again. “The Lord of Destruction is inside me as I break your body. As I enter you, He is inside _you_ … and We shall break your mind.”

“You won’t win.” She said it in spite of the near-waterlogged cloth, slimy and cold against her eyelids, and in spite of the uncontrollable hitching of her breath. She said it against her better judgement, knowing in her heart she was probably far better off submitting to the madman… yet he’d so far seemed fairly receptive to her opinions, and her resistance.

Maybe he enjoyed the struggle.

“You won’t break me.”

She felt his weight shift again, ever so slowly, as Camoran leaned over her body. As he did his shaft pressed deeper inside her than she ever thought possible - painfully hard - and she failed to hold back her whimper. She couldn’t hide the way her hips bucked, trying her best to recoil from the agony. As if fully aware, the elf ground even harder inside until Ari howled in pain.

He was still fully hard. He hadn’t come. And as that thought- that _truth_ , sharper in her gut than any dagger, started to sink in, the girl started to weep beneath her blindfold. It was _far_ from over.

He whispered the words, and they tickled the girl’s lips as his breath washed over them. “But you are _already broken_.”

He didn’t move, and for a while - save for Ari’s audible weeping and ragged breaths… and that constant _drip_ in the near distance… all was silent. She was all too aware of Camoran’s every breath on her, so very close it made her skin crawl.

“Kiss me and I’ll bite off your tongue.”

She didn’t know _why_ she said it but now the words had come out, there was no taking them back. Again she felt the haughty chuckle against her lips, the quick _hhm_ on his exhale… and then felt her every muscle loosen beyond the point of use, beyond the point of struggling in her bonds. As she lay paralysed from head to toe, the heavy odour of Magicka reached her nostrils - _he’d done this_.

Ari was unable to resist when Camoran’s lips pressed to hers, unable to even cry as his tongue invaded her mouth, exploring deeply. It wasn’t a perfunctory thing like the way he’d fucked her - he put his all into the kiss, she was sure of it - still throbbing deep inside her passage. When he broke away, after what felt like a full minute, and when Ari was finally released from whatever Magick had kept Camoran’s tongue decidedly safe from harm… she couldn’t deny the shame stabbing at her gut. She was aroused again.

The sorceror’s weight shifted yet again, not so much as to move away but as though reaching for something on a nightstand, and when he finally stilled, something hard, and very sharp, was teased against the girl’s neck. Though able to move again, Ari’s whole body froze as though her life depended on it when she realised Camoran was holding a dagger at her throat.

_It’s the Razor._

At the realisation, Ari hyperventilated once again.

“Get it away from me!” she wailed, that humiliation weighing down on her even more at just how pathetic she sounded. She didn’t think she’d actually reach the point of begging, yet… she didn’t ever expect to be threatened with that which had turned Mankar Camoran insane.

“Don’t touch me with that thing! I _WON’T GO THROUGH WHAT YOU DID! PLEASE!_ ”

As it pierced her skin she screamed again - this time not for her body, but for her very soul. The small blade, slicing ever so slowly down to her shoulder, down over her clavicle, hot blood chilling against her skin as it trickled from the searing wound, was somehow worse than anything that had come before it.

_What happens now? What happens to me?_

“You still doubt the Razor?” Camoran whispered.

As if on cue, the burnt stench of Magicka grew heavy in the air once again. “It’s-- it’s not the Razor?”

“Lord Dagon does not forsake His prizes… even winners of ages gone must replay His game. Yet still you fear a bound blade, spiritually inert… as though it is that which lured you to the proving grounds. You do not truly _doubt_ Lord Dagon’s own tongue, scholar.”

Suddenly the dagger was gone, snuffing itself out of existence and leaving only the smallest puff of air in its wake. The tiny, cold breeze washed over Ari’s clavicle, and all too soon, Camoran started to move again.

Ari tried her best to compose herself. “Okay…” she began, feeling her body heave over and over like a ragdoll as the elf quickly resumed his earlier pace and fucked her into the sweat-soaked furs. “So maybe it’s real, and maybe it’s here. I’ll accept that. Why do you want it back - has it not already given you everything it had?”

“My Lord tests me as He sees fit,” Camoran replied. “He does not hand away His trust in once-mortal men. Surely you must understand this.”

“Those men out there… they came because you promised them paradise, and now they do your bidding. _Why?_ You scout them out but for what purpose? What’s all this for?”

Again, he leaned in so close he could whisper it in her ear. “Dawn’s Beauty…” he began, still pounding steadily into her. “Is but the draft of a greater architecture. It lies in wait, patient as the moment of liberation draws near…”

He took a moment to catch his breath, no longer able to stay entirely composed. Once-steady breaths against the girl’s neck was now much more like a measured panting. “The blind midnight of _Tamriel_ awaits the Dynamic Ruler. Through Him I am reborn... I see universes my eyes shall never know, _aeons I have never lived pierce the recesses of my memory... I am warped through His Tongue!_ THROUGH HIM I AM OLD AND NEW! PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE! IT IS HIS WILL! ONLY LORD DAGON MAY USHER IN THE TRUE DAWN!”

He didn’t mean what she thought he meant. There was no way. “Dagon… no... why would you _want_ that? Tamriel is at peace! Don’t fix what isn’t broken… right?”

“Only the naiive gaze upon a thriving world!” Again were his words interspersed with a laboured panting, growing heavier as the minutes drew on. He wouldn’t last much longer, that much was clear. Soon he’d come and then Ari could finally die. “The enlightened among us grow embittered by its malaise… it has sickened us for too long, scholar! Dawn’s Beauty cannot reach its full potential under the rule of man and mer alone - even the Deadlands should waste away in absence of their King… Tamriel _must_ be reborn! I pray you understand!”

A sudden thought occurred to the Imperial’s hazy, pain-addled mind. Like a magelight blinking into existence inside her own head. “You can’t bring Mehrunes Dagon here, you just can’t! It’s impossible! You forget the Dragonfires ward our world against that exact threat!”

“ _For now_ …” Camoran breathed. “The Dragonfires are but a transient burden… cast away by careful blade.”

“What are you saying? Say it now for me to understand… I want you to say it straight!”

“I tell you now… the fire of the Septim bloodline shall be extinguished by the all-reaching hand of the Mythic Dawn!”

He’d truly thought of everything. He was planning this, and beneath him, there was nothing she could do to stop it. “This is _madness_ … what gives you the _right_ to do _any of this?_ ”

“There is no _rightful_ usher for the new age… I seek only to exact my vision.”

“No one wants this but you.” Ari felt somehow better about begging the madman when that begging wasn’t for herself. “Please don’t do this.”

“Pray to the Nine, scholar. Pray it is not so. …Perhaps they shall intervene… IBHEL AEDROTH. IBHEL JULIANOS!”

The Imperial howled yet again - this time at the sudden, searing heat on her flesh - the exact spot at the crook of her shoulder Camoran panted into, now urgently, heavy as though he’d been running for miles. Each pant came hot as fire loosed straight onto her skin. And it kept coming. Each breath was so hot against her, each one built up a lasting agony like her skin was truly burning under his every breath. She jumped and fought fruitlessly against her restraints with each one just to get away from the pain - her only respite was Camoran’s quick intakes of air as he panted against her neck.

Despite the pain, Ari was all too aware of the pressure again.

“ _Pray to him!_ ”

Whatever he was doing to her skin - whatever it was - it distorted his words. It was as if he really _was_ breathing fire but… he couldn’t be, he just _couldn’t_ be breathing _fire_ …

“Julianos…” Ari began, now too exhausted both mentally and physically, and too consumed both by pain and pleasure - equally unwanted - to devote herself to the task. Did she really have the strength to call to a god who would not come?

All the while, Camoran still breathed fire against her skin.

“Julianos… through You I know what is true…”

Each word was now barely a whisper into the cold cavern - barely audible over the madman’s grunts of pleasure. Ari was utterly broken. How could she have thought she could stand up to all of this? Camoran was right all along… he _had_ broken her body, and her mind. And her gods did not care enough to save her.

“By Your guiding hand I know what is right and fair. …Through your eyes I see… what to…”

She could hardly bring herself to keep going after that. “You couldn’t save me from this… but please save Tamriel. It’s such a wonderful world to have… don’t let Camoran get what he wants…”

The elf now fucked Ari to within an inch of her life. The agony was little more than a background sensation now - the kindling fires of orgasm welled in every part of her body and the girl found she was glad for it this time. The fire hurt less that way. It had been so long now his cock seemed like a constant inside of her - always had been, and always would be.

“Don’t… don’t let him be right. He can’t get what he wants. His god is an enemy of our good world… he was the one who gave Camoran this fire. Made him… Dragonborn…”

Behind the waterlogged blindfold, Ari’s eyes rolled into her head. Her whole body shook and seized as orgasm claimed her once again. Beneath her captor, she could only tremble - far too broken now for anything more than small, soulless moans, and could only listen as Mankar Camoran gave a long and guttural sigh into her burning, ruined ear. Could do nothing but take his seed as he shuddered and pumped it inside with those final, erratic jerks of his hips - it too seemed to burn unbearably hot within her as he spilled it.

It was as Camoran’s body finally stilled, the heavy breaths against her still-burning flesh now merely warm as exhaled air and not white hot like dragon fire, that Ari knew her trial to have come to an end. Only now it was all over did the stench of burned hair hit her fully, and she heaved. As she felt the bile rise in her throat, the girl turned her head enough to avoid choking as she retched and vomited onto the furs, spluttering, unable to clean it from her lips and cheek.

As Camoran whispered something into her ear again, the content of which she was simply too defeated to even register, he pulled out and finally - mercifully - eased off the Imperial and got off whatever surface or plinth was beneath. Ari tuned into the sound of him readjusting his robes, and allowed her eyes, hidden beneath the cloth, to close.

The sorceror began to walk away - those sure yet delicate footsteps against the hard ground, growing fainter and fainter with each passing second.

“Wait- don’t go!” She had to say _something_ , had to take every chance she was given to try and change what was to come. She spat out more vomit, and felt more of it rising in her gut as Camoran's release oozed steadily from between her splayed thighs. “Don’t do it. I love this world… there’s still time to turn back and change your destiny. …Don’t fix what isn’t broken.”

Camoran allowed a long moment of silence to fall between the two of them. Again, Ari was left with only her pain - that of being torn wide open and violated. That of the dagger cutting into her skin. That of her burned neck, now oozing fluids that damn near froze on her wound in the cold air.

“Know it to be true, scholar,” he finally said, all too calmly. “You cannot stop what is already in motion. The Septim line _WILL_ be severed, and the Dragonfires shall fall to ash. Mehrunes Dagon… shall claim what has always been his.”

After that came the finality of a bolt sliding through its lock, echoing several times about the walls, and the creak of ancient hinges. Then there was the clatter as the door swung passively to a close, and after that, Ari was left in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have another chapter after this detailing how Ari got out of this situation (the Hero of Kvatch - whose mother rented a room to Ari so who knew her very well - was known to have talked about her "going insane" before the Oblivion Crisis) but honestly I decided it wasn't relevant and added nothing really.
> 
> I researched for days on end over the course of about two years for this story and that research took me to many places both canon and speculative. One of those places was the _Selectives Lorecast_ on YouTube - particularly the episodes talking about Lorkhan and Mankar Camoran (obviously). Those podcasts were such a huge help in compiling all the relevant canon into something manageable and accessible, but I want to say that as I researched and as I wrote, I wanted to stay clear of writing anything that was speculative.
> 
> I wanted to do this not because I didn't want speculation in my story (on the contrary) but because I wanted to avoid using ideas that weren't mine to use. I tried my best to stick to what was known in canon to be true, and also to my own theories/embellishments as I didn't want to rip anyone elses' ideas off, so if I did include anything in here that is speculative at best, I apologise sincerely and would endeavour to make changes if that was the case. But for this reason I felt it absolutely necessary to credit the Lorecast for this exact reason.


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